


The One Who Knows You Best

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrond is troubled by nightmares, even in the safety of Imladris. Celebrían wants to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Knows You Best

"Elrond?”

He was woken by a gentle hand on his shoulder. Blearily, he extricated his face from the mass of papers on his desk, amongst which he realised he must have fallen into a light, fitful sleep. He frowned, rubbing his cheek distractedly. But the frown did not last long, as he turned to see Celebrían behind him, a look of concern on her face.

“I’m sorry.” She brushed an errant tendril of hair from his forehead. “Perhaps I should have let you sleep.”

“No” he said, taking her hand in his own with a sigh. “You were right to wake me. I’ve no excuse for falling asleep at my desk in the middle of the day.” He grimaced. “It’s just that…” he hesitated. He had barely slept last night. He wondered how obvious his wakefulness had been lately. “Nothing to worry about, love” he said briskly, kissing her hand.

She regarded him appraisingly. “You have ink on your face” she informed him, reaching out to wipe away the smudge on his cheek, affectionately.

“Ah” he said, a little embarrassed. “Thank you for letting me know. Otherwise I may well have walked around all day like that.”

They were silent for a moment longer as she carried on staring at him, searching his face.

“The dreams” she said suddenly. “The headaches. You still have them, don’t you?”

“I suppose there’s no point in…” he faltered. “I just didn’t want to worry you!” he burst out.

She took his arm and guided him over to the balcony, steering him purposefully towards the little bench that looked out over the sunlit valley. “Sit with me?”

He sat down obediently, and she placed herself beside him. She kissed his ear lightly, and then rested her head on his shoulder. “The original reason I came to your study” she began, “was that the twins asked me something.”

“Hmm? What did they ask?” He felt momentarily calm, the blackness that seemed to sit heavily over him all too often recently receding a little. The autumn sunlight, weak though it was, drove it back somewhat, as did the warm weight of Celebrían’s head on his shoulder and the brightness of her flyaway mass of silver curls in his peripheral vision.

“They…” he seemed to hesitate. “They want to join the patrols. Outside the valley.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Elrond…”

“ _No._ Tell them absolutely not. They are children, and the patrols are not a task for them. Glorfindel is in charge, and he and his men do a perfectly good job protecting Imladris. Elladan and Elrohir would only hamper his efforts, endangering everyone, but particularly themselves.” As he had spoken, he realised, his voice had risen until he was close to shouting. “I’m sorry” he said quickly, with a stab of guilt. “I didn’t mean to get angry at you… but… they are _children_.”

Celebrían drew back and looked at him. “They’re not children anymore” she said slowly. “They’re fifty-two years old. I don’t think we can stop - ”

“We most certainly can stop them, as their parents. And I, for one, will do all I can to keep them away from unnecessary harm. Why even build a safe place like Imladris if not to protect our own children?”

“Elrond.” Her voice had a touch of gentleness in it now. “I know you want to protect them. Of course you do, I want that too. They’re my sons too, you know.” There had been a smile on her face, but it quickly faded now. “I know… your own childhood… your brother…” she gestured lamely. “But they are adults now. How old were you when you fought in the War of Wrath?”

“That was a completely different - ”

Her eyes were steely. “How old were you?”  
“Too young.” He stared at the sky above the trees on the crest of the ridge. “Far too young.”

She looped an arm around his shoulders, sympathetic. “These dreams… I know they’re to do with your childhood. Your brother. It’s fear, Elrond, and it’s completely understandable. But the world is a little safer now, or at least these lands are, thanks to you,” she touched the ring on his finger lightly, “and it would be better for all of us if you tried to let the fear go. I don’t want my sons in danger. But I want them to feel… well, free. I suppose.”

He stared at her. “How… how did you know? About the dreams?”

She tapped his forehead. “I could say that I have inherited some my mother’s talents…” she laughed at the look on his face “…but I think in this situation it’s more the fact that I  _know_  you. Sometimes I think I know you better than  _you_ know you. Now do you want to actually talk to me about what’s been troubling you lately?”

He nodded slowly. And then he told her. About the dreams that were parades of all the people he had lost, swirling darkness, flames and strange music carried on the hot wind. About the pounding headaches. About the growing sensation that something was coming, something formless and threatening. When he was finished, they fell into silence.

“Elladan and Elrohir… they remind you of yourself and Elros, don’t they?” said Celebrían quietly.

He sighed heavily. “Moreso every day.”

“In that case” she said “I trust them even more to be brave and strong and clever. And you of all people should understand their desire to protect what they love.”

He was silent. She cupped his chin, kissing him tenderly, lingeringly. He could not help but smile into her lips, running his fingers lightly through her hair. The shadowy world of nightmares seemed to have momentarily receded, still there on the edge of his consciousness, but distant and harmless. He felt light, suddenly joyful and carefree as pride in his almost-grown sons bloomed anew in his heart.

“So be it.”


End file.
